I Relate Better Loaded [Morgan]

[longjohn]

Vergil didn't really see the appeal of bars, personally. He obviously understood hedonism, but he had not participated in such reckless and unknowing self-destruction since he was too young to care. It was pathetic, he mused to himself as he pushed through the crowd. But without it, he'd be out of a job.

He let the slightest of smirks cross his face, unzipping his leather jacket to accommodate the heat of so many bodies around him. The white wife-beater he wore beneath it was low enough to show his collarbone jutting out sharply from his chest. He was handsome, but gaunt. His skin seemed to cling to his muscles and bones like it was terrified of peeling away.

His dark hazel eyes scanned the crowd, his expression calm, gaze emotionless. The atmosphere of this place suited him, though the behavior of most of the club-goers did not. Vergil was not stupid or reckless. He was careful, and though he occasionally indulged himself in the pleasures of the senses, he did so in a controlled and calculated manner. The grinding, dancing, drinking, acid-dropping cretins parading around him could not have been more different from him.

This joint needed more punk music.

He sighed and ordered himself a whiskey at the bar with a little wave of his hand. "Archangel" was well-known enough around these parts, and the bartenders seemed happy to give him a free drink or two if it meant they'd be on his good side.

Little did they know, Vergil didn't have a good side.

But he didn't let onto that. He took the whiskey graciously and even flashed the bartender a winning smile. He was charming enough to talk down a bank robber. Of course, he'd never done so, but there was no doubt that he would be capable of it.

He downed the whiskey in a few gulps and slid the glass back to the bartender. The alcohol burned in his stomach, and he inhaled deeply, taking in the scents of sweat and perfume and sex. He was here for a reason. He'd heard word from one of his informants that there was a DJ around these parts looking for a piece of his business, and Vergil never missed an opportunity to spread his influence. A new customer was always more than welcome.

Watch yer back about these parts, boy. Long John Silver, his one and only trusted friend, was always reminding him to be careful, and Vergil trusted his opinions.

"I will," he murmured to himself, and began making his way around the edge of the crowd and up to the DJ's booth. It was easy for him to maneuver around here. He was here enough doing business deals that the security knew who he was, and knew in turn that he was not to be crossed. It only took one encounter with Archangel gone awry before one discovered that he always carried a weapon.

And he didn't know a damn thing about "mercy."

Sauntering up to the DJ on duty, he remained a few feet back, looking him up and down with that calculating stare of his. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his battered skinny jeans, crossed his ankles, and leaned against the wall.

The kid was hot. Damn hot.

"Busy evening, hmmm?" he asked, smiling that deceptively charming smile of his.

[princeeric]

Music was quite literally Morgan's passion. His life. His everything. He needed nothing more than to supply the world with intoxicating rhythms. He appreciated all forms of music and had three MP3 players filled to their limits with music from over the decades. He loves how music can change people, motivate them, and music never dies. It makes the world spin. A day without music for Morgan is like a year without sunshine. He came to New York to further his music and as of late, he has gotten DJ-ing jobs at Down the Rabbit Hole and a few other clubs.

Tonight had started off as every night did by him showing up early, setting up, testing the system, then doing a bit of practice scratching, slip-cuing, and phrasing on the turntable. He was quite good at what he did because unlike most DJs he did his job for the thrill of it, not because it helped with the bills. As the club opened Morgan's routine had settled perfectly and the drinks offered to him started making a small collection on the small table near his turntable. He had a strict no drinking rule while working, hell he has a no drinking rule for everyday life. It was a bit sad that a twenty year old missed out on drunk blackouts waking up with a throbbing headache and no recollection of the night's events. Morgan didn't have religious issues or anything, he just never had an interest in drinking, sex, gambling, drugs, etc.

As the night peaked, Morgan noticed a regular who always seemed to extremely sketchy, but always calm and collected in the throbbing mass of humans. It intrigued Morgan's curiosity every night that he saw the guy, but he never actually approached the man for fear of well, not being liked. The man looked like he rolled with a different crowd than Morgan was willing to join. He had enjoyed the distant wonder that the guy offered Morgan throughout the night, but as the guy came closer to Morgan he felt nervous almost nauseous. Fear that the man would approach him hit him like a punch to the face and he felt his hands starting to shake. He wasn't sure why the man had such a profound effect on him, it wasn't like he found the guy attractive...Wait did he?.. No, no...He wasn't gay... was he? The internal conflict inside of Morgan's mind almost forced him to not notice that the man was standing on the wall near him.

Then the guy spoke to Morgan, yet Morgan's nerves seemed to ease up instead of forcing a knot in his stomach. He smiled at the guy, and nodded, "Always." His voice was a bit rushed as he transitioned two songs and the large crowd continued dancing. Turning from the turntable Morgan gave the guy an official once over, "Morgan Peppers." He introduced himself as he extended his hand out to the guy. His bright blue eyes seeming to glow in the black light club.

[longjohn]

Vergil regarded this... 'Morgan' with a gaze that was a cross between a snake watching its prey and an art critic studying a painting. Intent, admiring and yet predatory. Some were disturbed by the intensity of Vergil's gaze, the unwavering attention that he gave his subjects. And indeed, there was no doubting that everything about Vergil was powerful and magnetic. His charisma was riveting. But he was also dangerous.

"I should think so," he reflected, turning his gaze from Morgan to regard the clubgoers with a distinct lack of interest. But then his gaze was back on the younger man, fixed and intent.

"Morgan Peppers," he mused. "I like that name. It has character." His murky-colored eyes looked up into Morgan's brilliant blue, and the little smirk on his face blossomed into an admiring smile. "You have lovely eyes." Pushing off from the wall, he took a step towards Morgan, disregarding that he had not given his own name yet. "A very vivid blue. It reminds me of the ocean on a clear day." He chuckled. He was still a few feet from Morgan, as if keeping a respectful distance.

This didn't seem like the guy he was looking for. He was too...well, he seemed to glow with innocence, or...something. And he had another, realer glow. One that Long John had spoken of. But it could just be the lights in the club, and either way, Vergil had no interest in pursuing others "like him."

Still...the kid was gorgeous. And if he was malleable, well, then Vergil had some use for him. Nevermind if he didn't want Vergil's "business."

Limping forward another step, he took Morgan's hand and shook it firmly. "Around here, they call me Archangel," he said slyly, with a subtle wink. "But you, Mr. Peppers, can call me Vergil."

Already, his mind was working, ever moment, analyzing. Vergil was always looking for a new mind to mold, a fresh plaything. He grew so bored with the strung-out druggies that followed him around like hungry dogs, eyes and mouths pleading for a biscuit. This one seemed...clean. Untouched, unsullied, pure.

Something beautiful for Vergil to destroy.

Now don't go gettin' ahead of yerself, lad, Long John piped up, but Vergil mentally shushed him. He could handle this on his own.

[princeeric]

Morgan's eyes were cautious, yet full of curiosity of the man that stood opposite of him. He felt as if the man wanted him more than just for casual conversation, there was something...mysteriously dangerous about this man. The regular who never looked for anyone, yet was always approached with eagerness. Morgan's eyes found the male's and held his for a few long moments. His body reacted much differently than when he met some random clubgoer. This man held a certain...aura about him that differed from everyone else's in the club.

The man complimented on Morgan's name, which wasn't surprising. Morgan wasn't usually used for men, but he liked him name. Peppers also was a bit... odd mostly because it is so far from the norm of surnames. But then it went from friendly compliment to flirting. Admiration. Morgan felt his mouth get that cotton feeling that made swallowing hard as the man complimented on his eyes. His cheeks blazed a brilliant red, luckily the lights didn't give that much away. "Well, thanks. I am... You just... Umm... yeah, thanks." He laughed at himself as the man limped forward and returned the handshake. 'Archangel'? That was interesting... Wait, the guy just winked at him and he was smiling back at Vergil.... This was definitely flirting. "Tis a pleasure, Vergil." He added with a small smirk.

After a few moments of Morgan ogling watching Vergil, the club manager approached him and whispered for him to make last call. Morgan looked over a the man, held up his finger, then went to the mic. He had adopted a sort of MC voice, as he called it. It was a bit of deep, rough with a bit of charm. After the announcement, Morgan glanced over his shoulder at Vergil. Okay the guy was rough around the edges and had this allure that was 'Mess with me, and I ruin your face.' Morgan hadn't known that he found men attractive. Possibly because men never flirted with him... or he didn't realize when they were, but this guy wasn't being shy about his flirting. He went back to work and put four more songs in queue before turning to face Vergil. Blue eyes soft and a small smirk on his lips, not having left his face. "So, Vergil," The name seemed so natural on Morgan's lips, "What can I do for you?" He hadn't meant the question to seem... dirty, but hell, there was no better way to ask.

[longjohn]

Vergil was thinking, as he listened to Morgan speak in that sexy MC voice into the microphone, that this young man would make a fantastically good toy. He was hot, and he seemed innocent - enough so for Vergil to corrupt. And that was one of his very favorite pastimes, after all.

Leaning back against the wall, he watched him, subtly undressing him with his eyes. His level of charm was increasing by the second, and when Vergil wanted to, he could make himself very alluring. It wasn't completely irresistible, but as charm went, it came pretty close.

"Well, thanks. I am... You just... Umm... yeah, thanks."

Vergil smirked, chuckling a low, husky chuckle. "You're more than welcome."

"Tis a pleasure, Vergil."

Pushing off the wall again, he somehow sauntered forward despite his limp, took Morgan's hand, and lifted it to his lips, pressing a smirk against the back of it. "Believe me, Mr. Peppers, the pleasure is entirely mine."

He couldn't be too forward. He knew this. Vergil had been playing this game for years, and he knew just what to do. Of course, not everyone was susceptible to his charms, but if that was the case, he could always find someone else. But he found himself intrigued by Morgan. He found himself hoping (and Vergil rarely hoped) that Morgan would, in fact, be susceptible.

It was a well-known fact that Archangel had few limits on whom he chose to sleep with. He was always safe about it, and never violent - he was no rapist - but he got around with both sexes. Never committing, with a new face in his bed every night, Vergil only held callbacks for his favorites. And those were few and far between.

"So, Vergil," He loved the sound of his name on Morgan's lips. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, Morgan, I will be honest." His face assumed a slightly humble expression. "I came into this club because I believed I had a bit of business to do. But I can see you're not the type for my sort of business." The look faded, replaced by a sly, flirtatious smirk. "So theoretically, I should leave you alone, but..." He tilted his head, smile softening just a little bit. "Pardon me for being so forward, but I'm disinclined to stop talking to you."